Xander Harris and the Hidden Past
by Cyclone
Summary: Xander Harris's past comes back to haunt him. On hold.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Xander Harris and the Hidden Past (1?) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Harsh language, violence, and possibly gratuitous explosions.

Spoilers: Up to Chosen and... well, that would be telling.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other folks. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Xander Harris's past comes back to haunt him.

Author's Note: Annoying bunnies.

* * *

It was the day after the dancing demon Sweet had come to Sunnydale.

"Willow, don't," Xander said quietly, breaking her concentration. "Messing with people's memories, it isn't right."

The redhead turned and stared at him for a long moment in astonishment.

"How dare you," she hissed, her voice low, her eyes blazing. "How dare you judge me when you did the exact same thing!"

He flinched and looked away. His voice low, he replied, "It wasn't the same thing, Willow. All I did was give you a... a sense of familiarity. The rest was your own mind rewriting itself. That's the way it was with everyone. Even me. Don't do this, Willow."

"Even you?" she blinked in surprise, her anger deflating rapidly. "You charmed yourself?"

"I had to get away, Will," he said, looking up. "If you knew about that... then you know why."

She nodded slowly and looked away herself, "Yeah... yeah, I guess I do."

"Whatever you decide to do," Xander said, shaking his head, "I won't judge you. I just wanted to make sure you considered the consequences." He turned to leave.

"Thank you... Harry."

"Harry's dead," he said coldly.

It would be a year and a half before they spoke of their hidden history again.

* * *

The ragtag band stood over the sinkhole that was once Sunnydale.

"I just want to sleep, yo," Faith said, "for like a week."

"I guess we all could, if we wanted to," Dawn noted.

"Yeah," Willow smiled. "The First is scrunched, so... what do you think we should do, Buffy?"

"Yeah, you're not the one and only chosen anymore," Faith added. "Just gotta live like a person. How's that feel?"

"Yeah, Buffy," Dawn chimed in. "What are we gonna do now?

Thwip-thwip-thwip!

They turned in surprise as helicopters landed and vehicles pulled up. Military medical teams flooded out, and after a long and tense moment, they began seeing to the injuries sustained by the Sunnydale refugees. Out of one helicopter climbed...

"That lousy son of a bitch," Xander muttered as he stalked toward the chopper.

WHAM!

"What's the big idea, huh?" Xander demanded. "We could've used some firepower in there!"

"Nice to see you too, Xander," Riley said, holding his jaw, not bothering to get up.

"So, where were you, and don't give me that 'need to know' shit," Xander snarled.

Riley sighed, "We had direct orders from on high, Xander. Because of the Initiative mess, our standard policy is to assume that you guys can handle things here. Besides, we had a team in there, and Buffy told them to leave, so we concluded that you had everything under control."

"Buffy told them to what?" Xander asked, his voice suddenly very calm.

"Um, Xander?" Riley said nervously. "Calm down."

"I'm perfectly calm. Answer the question."

* * *

"Buffy!"

Buffy jerked and blinked in surprise as Xander stormed into the medical tent the Army had set up for the injured.

"What is it, Xander?"

"Didn't you think flamethrowers just might have been useful?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" she frowned. By this point, every one of the wounded had their gazes focused on them. The medics were too professional to be distracted much, but they too paid attention.

"Riley just told me about the offer for help and your answer."

"He what!" she bolted to her feet. "Where is he?"

"Getting some ice for his jaw."

"Whoa, hold up," Rona broke in. "You mean we could've had help? Flamethrowers?"

Xander nodded at her, "Flamethrowers, incendiary grenades, you name it, we could've had it." He turned to Buffy, his eyes blazing, "Do you even realize, Buffy, that with their help, we could have won that last fight without losing anyone? A single thermobaric is all it would have taken, and Anya and even Spike would still be alive right now!"

He took a deep breath and added, "And I use the term 'alive' loosely. Hell, with their help, we wouldn't have had to pull this mass Calling stunt, and there wouldn't be dozens of girls out there with big fat bull's eyes on their backs!"

"Don't try and pin this on me, Xander!" she snarled back.

"Who should I blame it on, then?" he shot back. "Giles? No, you were in charge, you made those decisions without consulting any of us, so you are the one responsible for getting those girls killed. And you get to be the one to tell their familes their daughters are dead. And as time passes, you get to tell all those new slayers out there that they've just been drafted. By you. Just like you were."

"Xand-" she said, her voice breaking.

"I'M NOT FINISHED YET!" he roared. "Do you like being the leader now, Buffy? Hope so, because this is just the first taste of the shit that's about to come down on you. We had the f---ing ARMY waiting on our doorstop, with enough firepower to incinerate every ubervamp as soon as they got out of the seal, and because you told them to take a hike after they unchipped Spike, they sat out the whole damn fight!" He leaned in close, "You want the glory? You get the blame."

With that, he turned and stormed out of the tent.

Buffy followed... and blinked as an owl suddenly dove out of the sky and landed on Xander's out-stretched arm. He looked at the owl for a long moment, then continued walking.

She moved to follow him again, "Xander, what...?"

"Don't, Buffy," Willow said, stepping in front of her. "He needs to be alone for this."

_Oh, Xander,_ Willow thought, looking over her shoulder at the owl Xander carried with him as he sought privacy. _It's been so long since you've used magic. Can you really...?_

Her eyes widened. "Oh, no."

* * *

Xander had just finished reading the letter when Willow barrelled into the tent.

"Xander, whatever they want, you can't go. You don't have your magic anymore. I do!" she babbled breathlessly.

Xander chuckled, "You're just figuring it out now? For someone so smart, you can be really dumb sometimes, Will."

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but no words came out.

"Nice goldfish impression there, Will," he grinned. "You've had my magic ever since the Enjoining Spell."

Her gaze swept around, until it finally settled on the letter, "So, what's it say?"

He shrugged, "About what I expected."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go there," Xander said, his voice deceptively calm. "And I'm going to shove my axe in someone somewhere very uncomfortable."

"Now Xander, what have I told you about being polite?" she scolded mildly.

"Will, given what I want to do to them, that is me being polite."

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Another one of my random plot bunnies. I've had this one for a while, and only now decided to polish it up and post it.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Xander Harris and the Hidden Past (2/?) 

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Harsh language, violence, and possibly gratuitous explosions.

Spoilers: Up to Chosen and... well, that would be telling.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other folks. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Xander Harris's past comes back to haunt him.

Author's Note: Annoying bunnies.

* * *

Willow sat in her plane seat and glanced at Xander curiously. He looked deep in thought. Actually, he looked like he was brooding, but he would be the first to deny that, vehemently at that. Xander had had another chat with Riley, and then the two of them had split off from the rest of the Sunnydale survivors, stopping only to tell Giles and Kennedy that they had some urgent business in England, and had booked two tickets for the earliest available flight to Heathrow. Not once had Xander objected to her coming, but neither had he really invited her, so she remained uneasy with the whole trip. Still, there was something bothering her, and now was as good a time as any to ask.

"Xander?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are we flying to England?" she asked, her voice low. "Why didn't you use the portkey?" He stared at her, and after a moment, she blushed self-consciously and asked, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

He started and shook his head, "No, no. It's just... how do you know about portkeys?"

Willow opened her mouth... then closed it and frowned. "I... don't know," she finally said.

"Looks like you got more from the Enjoining Spell than just my magic, after all," he said.

"I did?" she blinked, then frowned. "Did you know?"

"Had a hunch," he shrugged. "After all, how would you even know about owl post if you hadn't?"

Willow slumped back, "I hadn't thought of that."

"Wow," he said with a smirk. "Something Willow didn't think of. Will wonders never cease?"

Smack!

"Xander!"

"Ow, okay," he held up his hands. "I surrender."

"Hmph!" she sniffed. "And you still haven't answered the question, mister. Why not use the portkey?"

All playfulness left his face, and he said, "Because that portkey goes straight to Hogwarts, and I have other things to do before I'm ready to face that old goat."

Willow winced, "Like?" She was almost afraid of what his answer might be.

Xander grinned in return but said nothing as he dropped back into his not-brooding look of contemplation.

* * *

Willow felt a little spooked. They had checked into a modest hotel, and Xander had disappeared for a few hours, saying he had a few private things to do before they set out again. Now, the pair was walking down Diagon Alley -- reconnaissance, Xander called it; Willow felt "bear-baiting" would have been more accurate -- and it was nearly dusk.

It was strangely empty. Not eerily so; there were quite a few people around, but the tightly-packed hustle and bustle she had expected -- that, she suspected, Xander remembered -- was absent, as were the cheerful greetings. The clumps of people parted before the two of them like the Red Sea before Moses, watching fearfully, and Willow wondered whether it was her power or Xander's expression that they feared.

She felt her spine tingle, and resisting the urge to turn around, she leaned over, "We're being followed."

"I know," he replied. "Can you cast a silencing charm?"

She blinked at the non sequitur, then nodded as the memory of the charm surfaced. "Yeah, why?"

"Count to ten and do it," he said, fiddling with something under his jacket. "Make sure you cover a good thirty foot radius. And duck."

"Right," she replied. After a ten-count, she spun and threw herself away from Xander, holding up a hand, "SILENCIO!"

Two white-masked, cloaked figures drew wands, and each pointed at one of them... but nothing happened. Unable to incant the words, the two were similarly unable to cast whatever curse they were attempting. Willow chanced a look at Xander, and her eyes went wide when she saw him on one knee, aiming an automatic pistol. Despite the lack of sound, she still flinched when the gun bucked once... twice in his hands.

The two Death Eaters collapsed, each of their masks sporting an extra hole, their hoods each now containing a fairly squishy mess.

Willow looked around fearfully as the people vanished. She picked herself and walked over to Xander, "What's going on? Where are the Aurors?"

"It's worse than I thought," he said, more to himself than to her. "Death Eaters out in broad daylight in Diagon Alley. C'mon, Will."

He turned and walked off. Willow followed a couple of steps behind, "Xander. Do you... do you have to use... one of those?"

"It's all I've got, Will," he said quietly, "and I can't let you risk throwing curses around."

"But..."

He turned and pulled her into a hug. "Shh," he murmured in her ear. "It's just another weapon, Will. It's no more evil than a crossbow or an axe or a stake. You know it wasn't the gun that killed her; it was Warren."

Willow shuddered and allowed herself to melt into his arms, "I know. It's just... I... I keep seeing..."

"Shh," he repeated. "It'll be all right, Will."

Intellectually, Willow knew he was right, but intellect and emotion have never been fond friends. Still, after a long moment, she pulled herself together and pulled out of the hug. "Let's get going," she said, marching past him down Diagon Alley. She paused three steps away and looked over her shoulder at him, "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Gringotts."

* * *

"Dumbledore."

The leader of the Order of the Phoenix greeted his old friend, "Alastor, how are you? I have some good news."

"No time for niceties," Moody said snappishly. "Two people just killed a pair of Death Eaters in Diagon Alley."

Dumbledore blinked, "Who?"

"Didn't recognize 'em," Moody said. "A young man with dark hair and a red-haired witch about the same age."

"Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "That was my good news, Alastor. We've finally been able to contact Harry. He's alive, and I suspect that young man you saw was probably him."

"I doubt it," Moody shook his head. "That young man's either a squib or a muggleborn. The witch cast a silencing charm -- a pretty powerful one too -- and the man killed them with a muggle weapon, a... 'firearm,' I think the word is."

"That..." Dumbledore sighed, "...is troubling news indeed, then."

"It gets better," Moody added. "The witch cast that silencing charm wandlessly."

* * *

Gringotts was not how Xander remembered it. The wizarding bank had always been well-fortified, but that term was no longer adequate to describe the defenses in place now. Flanking the massive metal doors were a pair of imposing golems, each resembling a black-armored knight.

"'None shall pass,'" Xander muttered with a smirk. The sharp elbow that Willow delivered into his ribs interrupted his thoughts, "Ow, hey!"

"State your name and business," a voice boomed from the right-hand golem.

Xander cleared his throat nervously, "I am Harry Potter, and I am here to check the status of my accounts."

Willow wasn't sure, but she got the impression that the golem was doing the equivalent of blinking in surprise. There was a commotion within the bank, and suddenly, the doors swung open.

"Welcome to Gringotts, Mister Potter," the goblin said, waving them in. As the doors slammed closed behind them, he led them to a desk and said, "I am Snagtooth, and I will be conducting your business today. Just one little formality." He waved to an odd contraption.

Xander blinked at it, "Huh?"

"Identification, Mister Potter," Snagtooth said. "You've changed much since you were last here, you turned in your key, and there's a small matter of possible other inheritances since you have now achieved your majority."

Xander blinked again, "Oh."

"Just place your finger in the hole, please," Snagtooth indicated a small hole on the device. Xander shrugged and did so.

Willow watched, wondering -- and slightly worried -- if the fact that she now had his magic might affect the procedure.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

You know what I really miss in the later seasons of Buffy? Xander and Willow's friendship. Aside from Kingman's Bluff , the hammer analogy talk, and that touching hospital scene after Caleb plucked his eye out, it seems to have virtually evaporated.


End file.
